Subtlety
by Alice Starling
Summary: It's one thing his Olivia Dunham never had. *One-shot set during Olivia's time in the alternate universe with their Fringe Team.*


There's this thing with coffee.

Charlie's not sure where it came from. The first time it happens is when they're working that Milo Stanfield case, the one with the crazy-genius guy. She's gotten back from rushing Lincoln to the hospital- where he spits instructions at her until they have to forcibly stuff him into his regeneration pod, she says- and they're sitting at their desks.

It's right before he has to deal with that dumb-ass kid, right before she screws up and forgets that there's a code necessary; they're grumbling to each other about the case, and she says, "I'd love a cup of coffee right now."

Then she glances up at him like he's not who she expected to see; there's this weird moment, her looking at him with cloudy, bewildered eyes, and he breaks it by rolling his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure we all would, Liv."

She blinks, shakes her head slightly like she's trying to clear out the cobwebs. "I don't know where that came from. I don't even think I've had coffee since..."

"Listen, I've gotta make this call. If you feel the need to relapse, take your time," Charlie says, and wins a tiny, uncharacteristic smile that looks more rueful that ruthless.

XX

Later, after they catch Stanfield- after Olivia's break of protocol- he comes in and finds her asleep at her desk, back from taking Stanfield's sister to where he's being kept. Charlie nudges her awake so that he can offer her one of the muffins he's brought for her; she sits up and her face is red from where it's been pressed against the desk, her hair is disheveled, and there's that same cloudiness in her eyes.

She lights up, though, at the sight of him, and takes the muffin willingly. Immediately, she begins devouring it, so her words are slightly muffled as she asks, "So where's the coffee?"

And then there's that moment of realization again: she looks at him like she's expecting to see someone else, and then she looks surprised to find herself doing so. There's something battling inside of her for a moment, but then her face clears up and she offers a weak smile. "Sorry. I was having this bizarre dream..."

He laughs uneasily and lets it go, because she has just had a breakdown and anyway Olivia was always a little kind of weird to begin with. But there these little instances- only when the two of them are alone together, and she keeps looking at him like she expected someone else but she's not sure who- where she says these seemingly nonsensical things and he's sure she's talking to someone else. No one else is ever around to hear it, and even if they were, he doubts they would notice.

It's not just about coffee, really, but if he had a nickel for every time Olivia's mentioned _coffee_ over the past couple of weeks, he'd have enough money to actually buy her some. After a while he finally asks what's up with her, and she laughs a little and mutters under her breath so that she thinks he can't hear, "Caffeine withdrawal."

All of this strikes Charlie as just a little bit odd, because he's sure he's heard Olivia say before that she's never had coffee before.

XX

There's also this thing with Farnsworth.

No one, really, pays any attention to Farnsworth if they don't actually need her to do something: the kid is little more than a glorified machine. Hell, Olivia has more than once voiced a mild distaste for "the robot"; at least, she had before "the breakdown".

And now? Now he doesn't get it. At first, Olivia's gaze will just sort of slide over to Farnsworth expectantly, and then she'll catch herself and look surprised. It's like how she looks at Charlie- like she's looking for someone else where they are.

Then it sort of changes.

She starts giving Farnsworth this look like half-formed grief, like wistfulness. Olivia starts watching Farnsworth like she's _missing _her, which is ridiculous because Farnsworth is always three feet away at a maximum, and besides, who would miss Farnsworth anyway?

But it's not really just with Farnsworth. Olivia has this brand new way of looking at and talking to all of the people around her.

Like with Broyles. There's this strange mixture of contempt, fondness, and fear all warring across her face whenever she looks at Broyles- except not really warring and not really across her face, because Charlie is the only one who notices it. But it's there, lurking in her eyes or deep inside where no one else but Charlie can see it.

(Sometimes he swears Broyles looks at her the same way.)

It's more muddled with Lincoln- at first she's normal, or at least normal-ish, around him. Then she starts looking at him like she doesn't quite know who he is, like she doesn't trust him; but that doesn't last long. Soon enough those wary glances are mixed in with small, affectionate smiles, even though if Charlie knows one thing about Olivia it's that Olivia does nothing _small_.

Charlie listens to Olivia talk to Lincoln increasingly amiably, more and more like she's being _charmed _by him, and thinks, only half-sarcastically, that maybe Frank should be worried.

And more than that, there's how Olivia looks at Charlie. Honestly, out of all her brand new ways of dealing with her friends and co-workers, her new attitude with him is what disturbs him most of all. What's worse is that it isn't really an attitude, isn't really at all noticable to anyone but him; but it's there.

She looks at him like she's _mourning _for him. Like he's not really himself, but some living memorial to the real Charlie. He wonders idly if this is like that M. Night movie, the one where Kiefer Sutherland plays a dead guy, only he doesn't find it out until the very end.

He mentions something like that to her, and she looks at him funny and says, "I thought that was Bruce Willis."

"Bruce who?" he asks, and she just lets it go.

XX

The sum of the things is this: there is something wrong with Olivia Dunham.

Everything she does is smaller, somehow; the smiles, the way she pushes her hair out of her eyes, the way she reads...a million actions, all..._smaller_.

Charlie thinks that maybe he's the one in danger of a breakdown, but it's there and he sees it, even if no one else does.

His Olivia Dunham was loud. Obstinate. In-your-face. Loud. Impulsive. Not just a force of nature, but a hurricane; and now she makes him think more of the ocean itself, pounding away relentlessly in smaller swells and waves until the cliffs come tumbling down. (Not a fleeting storm, but something not quite as loud and destructive and obvious, something maybe stronger.)

A million things that she's not anymore; or she is but not really. He doesn't understand it.

There's something detached in her, something distant that never was before. It's hanging back, it's disconnected, it's alien and different and Charlie is really very worried.

Out of all the things Olivia Dunham was before, she was never subtle.


End file.
